


Jones-ing for a Purpose

by breatheforeverypart



Series: Natasha's Life [3]
Category: Black Widow (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), Jessica Jones (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Defenders (Marvel TV), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Bad coping mechanisms, F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Human Trafficking, I mean Jessica Jones is in this one, Medical Inaccuracies, Natasha and Clint do work closely with the Defenders in my headcannon, Ng tube, Rape/Non-con Elements, Red Room programming, Trauma, platonic snuggling, sassy Jessica Jones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23267050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breatheforeverypart/pseuds/breatheforeverypart
Summary: This fic is loosely related to my Seven Devils one-shot.  Claire is back at the Tower to follow-up with Nat and Jessica is about to start a fight in the lobby with Stark Security.I think this fic is surprisingly sweet compared to my usual angst.
Relationships: Avengers as family - Relationship, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Team as Family - Relationship, The Defenders - Relationship
Series: Natasha's Life [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758643
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	Jones-ing for a Purpose

***

“Look” Clutching her messenger bag with one hand Jessica drew herself up to her full height. Pausing to scan his name tag, “Derek, I’m honored to be on your no-entry list, but I don’t give a fuck.” 

The security guard at Stark Tower appeared to be ex-military, but a little flabby if she was being honest. 

He reached for her shoulder and Jessica snarled. “Fucking try it and I’ll snap your dick off.” 

This standoff was not going to end well. Malcolm would be disappointed in her. Thankfully the kid was running the office, but she didn’t like how he tried to run her life. He was the whole reason she was at this phallic shaped building. 

Her fingers twitched into a fist at her side, when a voice called her name from across the stupidly ornate lobby. 

“Jones!” 

Great. Murdock’s concierge nurse. What was she doing here? 

Claire hurried towards the metal detector and started sweet-talking the dumbfounded guard. 

Jessica swung her bag to her back protectively and stuffed her hands in her comfortably dirty jean pockets. 

She was operating on less than hour of sleep, enough liquor to inebriate Captain America himself and hours of research. For all she knew, Murdock’s nurse was a hallucination reminding her what a screwed-up life she led. 

“Thanks for meeting me here Jessica, come on we’re late.” Claire grinned at the guard and motioned for the PI to follow her. 

Blinking Jessica regained enough of her awareness to shoulder check the metal detector on her way past. The steady alarm of the broken machinery was satisfaction enough as the elevator doors closed. 

***

“Why’d you do that Temple?”

Scanning the visitors’ badge, Claire enter a code and floor number. “You’ve saved my ass plenty of times.” Turning to look at her she added “Let’s face it you, Murdock and the rest of you, you’ve basically kept me employed.” 

Shrugging Jessica crossed her arms. “And you’re here because…” 

The doors opened to reveal a room large enough to fit her apartment and Malcolm’s comfortably. 

“Hiya. I brought a friend.” Claire lifted a hand in greeting before heading to the kitchen. “Where’s our Widow?” 

Frowning Jessica exited the elevator. 

Fuck. 

Tony Stark sat in the middle of the biggest couch in Manhattan. His chest glowed through his dingy t-shirt. 

“How the hell did you get up here?” He pulled up security footage and looked from his tablet to the PI. 

Jessica’s lip curled into a smirk as Tony watched her break his metal detector with one bump of her bony shoulder. 

From the sink Claire called “Like I said, I brought Jess up. Is she coming here or should I meet her in Clint’s room?” 

The Hulk himself – well the non-green version at the moment, his name escaped her at the moment, picked up the kettle and angled it over a mug. “She’s coming with Clint. Stubborn as all hell. She’s insisting on walking the floors since Steve banned her from the gym.” 

Snorting Claire dried her hands and joined Jessica in the common room. “I can’t stop her from exercising, lord knows I’ve tried that with a couple of my other patients.” She looked up from pawing through her duffel. “Jones knows no one listens to me.” 

Jessica nodded sharply, remembering a time she had to knock Matt out so Claire could stitch up a stab wound on his back. Stubborn asshole. 

Her eyes scanned the medical equipment as Temple arranged it on a padded arm of the sofa.

Shuffling steps pulled her attention to a hallway she hadn’t noticed. Damn. She needed some sleep. Get it together Jones. 

***

Clint opened his mouth. 

Natasha came to an abrupt halt. The line from her IV swaying at the sudden stop of motion. “Don’t. I will replace your coffee with my herbal tea. Do not test me.” 

Swallowing he shook his head. 

“Hey Nat. How’s it going?” Claire took the Widow’s arm and guided her to the couch. “Looks like we’ve got a full audience today. Do you want some privacy?” 

Nodding, Natasha winced slightly as she sat. “She can stay.” 

Realizing someone new was in the room, Clint reached out his hand. “Hi. I don’t think we’ve been introduced. Barton. The only non-enhanced employee around here.” 

“Jones. I’m a PI in Hell’s Kitchen.” She shook his hand and broke eye contact quickly. Murdock had found the archer once or twice in the dumpster near his apartment. Jones may or may not have been called to lug his bruised body out of the garbage. Super strength had it advantages. 

Recognition flashed across his face, but the archer respectfully remained silent. 

The other Avengers made quick exits. Tony made sure to glare at her as he joined Bruce in the elevator. Clint noisily gathered snacks from the kitchen. Slowly Jessica realized she had no idea what she was thinking coming to this compound. The Winter Solider himself made a show of standing over Natasha and crossing his arms. Flexing the metal one protectively. 

“Jones you want any coffee?” Barton shouted, his hands already priming the coffee pot. 

“No.” She looked from Claire’s busy hands cleaning wounds around an angry looking IV site to Natasha. Her face curious, but mostly unreadable. “I’ve got to head out soon. I just wanted to drop something off for you.” 

The Widow watched her. Her green grey eyes observing, seemingly absorbing everything Jessica didn’t want the world to know. 

The contact sent shivers down her spine. Her eyes were the same. Unclouded. Sharp. 

***

The tube burned and tugged at her throat. Clint wouldn’t admit it, but she knew Bucky had been holding her wrists at night. 

The threat of nightmares had her procrastinating on sleep. She feared her subconscious and the flashes of foreign memories. Panic kept her body in motion and Bucky’s strength was the only thing that could keep her safe. 

After one particularly bad flashback Natasha had begged them to get handcuffs. 

“Please it’s the only way. Madame. We were safe. Couldn’t hurt anyone, or ourselves. Please do it.” Her face contorted in sobs. Clint rubbed her hands and squeezed them tight, trying to interrupt the self-harm. 

“Zaika (my little rabbit). No.” Bucky held her head to his chest. “A punishment is not the answer.”

Shaking her head, she whispered “I can’t trust myself.” 

The compromise had been that Bucky would stay awake, and entwine their hands together. Normally he slept about as well as she did. He understood her fear, her lethal capabilities on a level that no one else could. 

Clint had a hand over theirs, acting as a back-up alarm of sorts. He told familiar stories of their life in S.H.I.E.L.D., the farm where Laura and the children were safe and their missions. 

Fitful hours of rest finally descended to the soundtrack of stories that felt like they belonged to another person. Another life. 

***

Claire rotated the Widow’s arm, holding her forearm with a gloved hand. “I’m going to change out the line. You need to stay on the fluids until Friday, when we’ll start you on light foods by mouth.” 

Cold dabbed at her arm and Natasha glanced at the nurse applying a sticky cream to her forearm. 

Finger shaped bruising around her wrist raised Claire’s anxiety. 

Tugging her arm away Natasha spoke softly. “They’ve been preventing me from ripping out the line.” 

Her mouth in a firm line Claire was reminded of the nightmares that often-plagued Luke. His skin may be indestructible, but their furniture was not enhanced. 

“There is something we can try.” She pulled a sports sleeve from her bag and laid it on her lap. “It’s made of durable material that’s resistant to aggression and self-injurious behaviors.” 

Bucky touched the tightly woven fabric. “Wanna try it doll?” 

“Not my color” She tried. Her face grew hot with shame. 

Jessica cleared her throat. All eyes snapped up. “She knows what she’s talking about.” Gesturing at Claire. “A couple months ago, I took down a trafficking ring with a…colleague.” 

Everyone was watching her, listening dutifully. Claire quietly wrapped Nat’s arm loosely with gauze and sports tape. 

“The brainwashing targeted girls. Like he had.” Raking a hand through her greasy hair, she closed her eyes to brace her resolve. It was bullshit. He was dead. She had snapped his neck, she knew he was gone. 

“Killgrave. All of the evidence I thought I had, it got fucked up with my trauma. I couldn’t cope.” A ghost of a smile pulled at her lips. “I mean, I coped, but it…” Gesturing vaguely, she took a step towards Claire. 

Natasha kept her face neutral, her brain blending her Red Room sestras and the girls she and Jones had freed. Time had little meaning these days. 

“Someone brought Claire to my apartment. I hadn’t slept in days, had nothing but booze for a week and couldn’t tell what was real. I fought everyone. Almost killed my best friend.” 

On her worst days she could feel Trish’s pulse under her thumb. Hear her gasping for breath, her hands grabbing at her clothes. Matt and Claire screaming. Luke’s arm around her neck, using his full weight to subdue her. Killgrave was laughing in her brain. 

“Asking for help sucks, but it’s not weak. Or so I’m told. You’ve done a hell of a lot of good Widow. I want to see you back on the streets.” 

Her heart beating four times her normal rate, Jessica tossed Natasha a thumb-drive. 

“Play this if you forget what you’ve chosen to do with your life. Not what they made you do.” She bit her lip as if she wanted to say more, but decided against it. 

Turning to the elevator rooted around in the pocket of her leather jacket. “Barton, tell Stark I’m not sorry.” 

Clint caught a wad of crumpled bills and saluted her solemnly. “Tell the Red guy I’ll see him around.” 

***

Clint kissed her temple. “Are you sure?” 

Wrinkling her nose dramatically she tapped his face. “Yes. You stink.” 

“We both know I’ve smelled worse.” 

“True. I’ll be fine.” 

“Bucky’s in the gym with Steve. Do you want them to come up?” Clint fidgeted with an edge of Nat’s afghan. 

“No, I’m just going watch something and read what Claire left.” 

“Wanda’s in her room.” 

“I know, I’ll call if I need anything.” She grabbed her laptop. “Go!” 

He hesitated at the door until a well-aimed pillow caught him in the chest. Flipping her off playfully he retreated to his room. 

Natasha plugged in the thumb-drive and listened to her laptop’s mechanics whir. A window popped up and a video loaded. 

Curious. Nat thought, popping her earbuds in. Pressing play a shaky camera panned around a dingy basement. A siren wailed in the distance and the camera jerked to a serious man with an afro. 

“Welcome.” He laughed and gestured to the room. “You refused to get your ass down here Jess, so I’m filming it.” 

A blonde pushed into the frame and waved. “Hi! Tonight, we’re hosting a meeting like we used to after Killgrave.” The blonde, Trish zoned out for a moment before shaking her head. “These people, we are all so grateful for what’s been done to keep us safe.” 

Malcolm nodded and jabbed a finger at the camera. “That means you, Murdock, Luke and that archer who keeps winding up in our neighborhood.” 

Trish nodded and the shot ended. Face after face filled the screen, they introduced themselves, stories knitting together and slowly Natasha began to understand. The bodies they rescued, plucked from danger, had lives. They had connections of their own, relationships, talents, and potential. 

Her breath hitched and she paused the video. The girl speaking now fuzzed around the edges, like she was moving so fast the computer couldn’t keep up. 

Natasha remembered the body fall at her feet as she yanked her knife out of his chest. Blood dripped on the floor. 

“Jesus.” Jones stumbled over the body and brushed past her. “Hey. It’s okay. Fuck, it’s over.” 

Natasha’s mouth fell open as she scanned the dozen girls in varying degrees of shock huddling against the wall. 

One girl carried herself apart. Her body rattled with adrenaline. She swayed on her feet, but held fast to a pipe. 

Blinking through tears she un-froze the video. She was alive. Talking. Laughing. She had chosen to keep living. Jessica was right. She had choices too.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Please let me know how you feel about these one-shots. It's quite nice to be writing again (there's one upside to this whole quarantine thing).


End file.
